O Divine fire Immortal
Arise must I to the Portal
Empyrean, and I shall find,
In fulsomeness, love-drunk roses
Of preternaturally kind.
Love shall pour out its sweet tresses
from her love-irradiated
Center to my spirit blessed.
O Joy-inebriated Sun
Of beauty that you have become
We now drink love’s holy wine, don
Her roseate cloak of endless joy.
Lets join the Choir of Birds
Whose mellifluous songs of resurrection morn
Resonate through verdant meadows…
Weep not Aeolian Maids of Parnassus!
Sweet is the Empyrean Mead
That pours out of your velvet lips.